


Flowers For You

by Ghospice



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Creepy, Friendship/Love, Other, Sunflowers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2020-04-05 17:13:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19044820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghospice/pseuds/Ghospice
Summary: Normally you'd continue past, walking just a bit quicker then usual, barely paying it any mind.But today felt different. Today you ignored that feeling, and stopped just outside the rusted gate, awkwardly bent and gaping forward. Almost like an invitation.





	1. I

The dusty road crackled under your flat shoes, your only companion in the silence as you walked home. A wispy breeze moved the high stalks of grass that littered the road, as well as the odd glass bottle or cigarette pack, and occasional used condom. Among this beautiful scenery were a few houses, your very own near the end of the unkempt area.

The sky was rapidly dulling into a soft blue, the road already under a cover of deep shadows. The homes here were the cheapest in Derry, which was the only reason you had even considered living here, instead of moving some place nicer. 

That, and you had grown fond of the local elementary school which you now worked at. Unfortunately the pay wasn't great, but you hoped with time you could move onto a better position in the school. This was what you’d told your dad, during one of his many calls to check on how you were doing in this little rural town.

As you passed one particular house you found yourself inevitably casting a look over. It was hard not to. The house stood out like a hulking monster among the smaller ones surrounding it. 

It had blackened wood and a shabby exterior, and it somehow made the rest of the road look almost good. Yet the front yard was littered with sunflowers, inexplicably fresh and well cared for, as if someone had recently planted them there. There were weeds around them, dying green, pale and lifeless, which just made their golden hue look all the more stunning.

As far as you knew, nobody lived there. The neighbours spoke little of it whenever you asked, and you of course had to ask. No one knew who had ever lived there. Perhaps it had been in Derry for centuries, built a time long gone. It certainly looked aged enough. But the question remained as to who was watering the sunflowers.

Despite the empty residence, you still found yourself occasionally walking the other side of the road, almost without thinking. Like you were naturally repelled to get any closer to something so foreboding. Normally you'd continue past, walking just a bit quicker then usual, barely paying it any mind.

But today felt different. Today you ignored that feeling, and stopped just outside the rusted gate, awkwardly bent and gaping forward. Almost like an invitation. 

You hovered there, your brown leather bag digging into your shoulder blade, full to the brim with kids school work. You think about how pretty one of the sunflowers would look sat on your window sill by the kitchen. And there were so many of them, sprouted up and flourishing, almost glowing in the murky dark. You wouldn't consider taking one if someone lived there.

_‘This is alright, taking one won’t matter.’_

You set your bag to the ground just outside the fence, and walked into the yard. 

The sound of weeds snapping beneath you is brittle and loud. It makes you wince and hesitantly look towards the front door. Obviously no one comes storming out, asking why your trespassing, but you can’t help but take notice of how much quieter it seemed. 

_‘Just being paranoid, calm down.’_

Carefully you approached the nearest flower, kneeling down before it. It looked as good as any of the others, almost perfect, if that was something you could say about a flower. Nerves prickled at your skin, and it felt for a second, like the forbidden fruit in the bible. You think of Eve picking that red apple, and smiled to yourself, amused at the thought. This front lawn was definitely no garden of paradise.

Your hands gently gripped the base of the stem, thick and velvety but likely easy to pull out. Once you had it clasped, you got a sudden, queasy feeling at the pit of your stomach. It gnawed at you as began to pull the flower.

It wouldn't come loose. You blinked in surprise and pulled at it harder. It felt as if the very roots were clinging to the soil, and for second you think it wont ever come out and maybe you should try again tomorrow with some scissors. But on your third attempt as you yanked, it suddenly came free. You fell backwards gasping at the impact.

In your hands lay the stubborn plant, dirtying your fingers with mud, your trousers no doubt faring any better. You stared at it with a furrowed brow, noting that despite your aggressive pulling it looked undamaged, almost like a plastic one would.

Sighing but pleased, you stood to finally leave.

As you turned and reached the parted gate, it slammed shut. A sharp rattle causing you to flinch back, your heart leaping in your throat. There was no heavy wind to throw it shut.

You stood there dumbly watching it, then slowly you turned to view the house. It was something you did instinctively, the hairs on the back of your neck raised up. 

It was the same as before, boarded up windows preventing you from seeing inside. You could tell that no lights were on, and the doorway though open, was dark and empty.

Wait.

Now open. The entrance was now open. 

You took a step back, swallowing the lump in your throat and hand reaching behind you for the shut gate. You felt the grainy metal, peeling and crumbling in your hand. Without taking your eyes off the doorway, you gently opened it.

As soon as you picked up your bag and secured it, your eyes darted back over to the front yard, towards the door.

You see nothing. The top of the doorway covered in broken slats of wood, the darkness beyond impenetrable. Perhaps it had blown open as the gate had shut. It was definitely deserted in any case.

Despite this reassurance you felt a chill ripple down you, and tension, like an inhaled breath ready to burst. Not wanting to stick around any longer you hurriedly walked away, your blood pounding furiously in your veins. 

As you reached a point where it felt as though the house was far behind you, you slowed down. You couldn't find it in yourself to stop completely, not until you were in the comfort and safety of your own home.

In all this time you'd almost forgotten the sunflower that was still clenched in your left hand.

You couldn't believe your own, pathetic panic. The house was god knows how old, so of course things creaked and opened, and yet here you were, loosing your shit over it and covered in dirt. It was pretty embarrassing, you were so glad no one was around to laugh at your childish behaviour.

You'd almost shrugged off the laboured heartbeat and uneasy feeling, when you feel the urge to look back. For a moment your footsteps continued, but slowly they stuttered to a stop. Your face went blank with cold shock at what you saw, stood centre of the road just outside that house.

A figure, draped in silvery clothing and holding a red balloon. Orange hair crowning a long, pale face. The air stilled in your lungs. 

The figure remained static, so tall and willowy that had it been among the trees, you could've mistaken it for one, if not the fiery hair and red buttons. It was as if someone had pressed the pause button on a remote. It was so unmoving that despite your fear, you were beginning to believe it was your imagination going bat shit insane.

Its shook its head then, an erratic and bizarre movement, its limbs wiggling like a feral dog shaking off water. You couldn't decipher the face, but in the dying gloom of light you see something bright.

Its eyes were shining, like a cars headlights and as gold as the flower in your hand. Its mouth opened to reveal another luminous light, peeking from behind its parted lips like a glowing jack o lantern.

You smiled then, deeply disturbed but becoming incredibly sure that this was all some kind of lucid dream you had found yourself in, or some kind of brain malfunction that you'd have to get checked out later. You blinked heavily. When your eyes opened the thing was still there. Your expression fell.

The figure moved, lifting a foot to step closer on its abnormally long, winding legs. It seemed almost playful. It took another step, and then another. Slow and deliberate, its mouth still hooked into a glowing grin.

“What do you want?” You spoke in a hushed tone, as if you truly thought this person to be a figment of your imagination that would disappear upon being confronted.

Despite the far off distance, which you were sure was too far to hear your whispered plea, the figure went still. Its leg lifted mid motion. Then it closed its eyes and mouth, face going dark as the burning comets of light disappeared.

They reopened slowly, now more human in appearance. If you had been closer you might've seen that they still gleamed an unnatural amber.

“I want...” the word hissed through the air making you startle, as if it spoke directly into the shell of your ear, “...I want to give you a present.”

In its hands it brought forth a bundle of flowers, many brightly coloured. You could've sworn it held a balloon before, but it was nowhere to be seen. Your stomach clenched with nerves.

“Your not real,” you chuckled, a nervous and weak sound, “You're imaginary.”

“Oh? Then why are you speaking to me?” Its voice was amused and heavy, like the rumble in the sky before it rained.

“I- I'm not...I'm going now.”

Its face drooped dramatically, the hand that held the flowers going limp at its side like a rejected lover. It remained still as you shuffled backwards, your eyes glued to it.

“I have so many,” It suddenly spoke, white, spidery fingers holding the flowers up again before its face, “There's blue, and green, and yellow, and red…wonderful, wonderful red. My favourite.”

You don't answer.

It made a low, thoughtful sound in its throat. 

“But you're a _sun_ flower girl, aren't you? I have those. I have so many.”

If you ignored it then maybe it would stop. That was how people dealt with these things, you were sure.

“They are so soft and tender. Easy to pluck, easy to chew,” It trilled in a high, excitable voice, making less sense as it went. It was shrouded in darkness now, but its voice still echoed far too close for comfort, even if it was make believe. 

Despite its cloying words, there was something about it that was not entirely innocent, and you felt its eyes bare into you with an intensity that couldn't be friendly. There was a severe edge to its eyes that were cut into by a heavy brow, making it look as if it were glaring at you.

You continued to walk and it continued to talk, more to itself then to you, or so it seemed. Its mouth contorted strangely, out of time with what it was saying.

“Goodbye sunshine,” you heard it sing, a watery distant sound. “Come back soon. I will wait.”

After a while its voice began to fade, but you kept looking round nervously to make sure it wasn't going to suddenly appear behind you.

The street was desolate, looking as undisturbed as it had ever been. No strangely dressed entity holding flowers out to you. Nothing.

You reached home shortly after, your hands trembling as you stabbed your keys into the lock. Once inside you dropped your bag to the wooden floor and leaned heavily against the door frame, taking deep breaths. You closed your eyes.

It hadn't been real. It was just a figment of your drained mind after a busy work day. People hallucinated these things all the time. It might be worth getting checked out. Or maybe you wouldn't have to worry at all, a good nights sleep would solve the problem. It would never happen again.

You were sure.


	2. Gifts

It would be months before you were reminded of the incident outside Neibolt house.

You had awoken early and left the house for work when you spotted it. You had put on your usual work clothes and had taken a moment to enjoy the clear blue sky and sun that was peeking up from the horizon. The air was cold as the winter months crept in, but it was pleasant and fresh compared to the stuffy summer that had just gone by.

The skies beauty did nothing much to improve the look of your street, as your eyes lowered to the grim looking road it was almost strange how it connected with the sky, with its wonky street lamps and broken power lines. You had walked forward towards the banister but then halted suddenly.

Something large and brown lay at the bottom of your porch step. You felt the phantom sensation of a gag, like your throat wanted to convulse as you peered down at what looked to be a pair of twisted clawed feet among dark fur. A small yellow beak of a bird, it’s head curved towards its spine. It was pretty large, maybe a foot long. You could see fresh blood wetting the bone where a wing had been torn off. 

You seized a hand to your mouth, breathing heavily through your nostrils. You were terrible with dead critters. No matter what they were you just couldn't deal with them. As you hovered above the gruesome display you were reminded of a cat you’d had as a kid. Your mother had given into your demands and brought you one from the local shelter. He had been a street cat previously, and was often prone to bringing his new family presents in the form of limp mice, that flopped from his jaws in a wet thump on the kitchen floor. It was kind of funny your mother said, because it meant he didn't think you could provide for yourself. You didn't find it funny and had cried each time.

You found a broken stick by the side of your house and prodded the carcass, just to make sure it wasn't still alive. God forbid if it was, just lying there in agony. Small feathers peeled off its body like dead flaking skin, floating and rolling away on the dirt. You shuddered. It gave no response which was a relief, but then you found yourself with the unwanted task of moving it. 

Another thought struck you. Perhaps you could just leave it for now, in the hopes that some animal may come by and eat the rest. It wasn't as if you had the time to deal with it and then change clothes again (because you would have to). So with that, you simply hopped over the body and left it, rushing away to the main road. 

You took one last look at the pile of bird. Seeing the little mound of feathers made you retch for real. You hurried on, trying to focus on the positives of today, like what classes you’d be in today and if you might see any of your favorite kids. 

-

Thankfully the bird was long gone when you returned. There was neither a single feather nor stain of blood that you could spot in the evening sun. You were pleased there were no bird guts to clear up. You wondered what local predator had received the lovely meal. Perhaps a fox or something equally small. You hadn’t seen much wildlife since moving to Derry.

Just as you were heading inside, you spotted something out of the corner of your eye. A small glimpse of shadow that darted by just past the side of the house. You dropped your bags by the front door and headed to the porch edge, leaning your face out to peer around at the back of the house. A pair of bright eyes stared back at you, the low sun reflecting them gold. 

“Oh! Hello cutie,” You grinned, watching the ball of black fur as it vanished into a bush to hide. You didn't expect to see a cat out here. Perhaps the little guy was responsible for the bird mess.

You tried to entice the cat with beckoning sweet words, but when that failed you headed back inside, defeated. You went to the kitchen and opened the small, circular window that was adjacent to your sink, leaving it open for the rest of the evening in case your new visitor wanted to come in. You even left a slice of turkey on the window edge. The cat was probably a stray if it found its way to this dingy area, and your bleeding heart just couldn't ignore it.

As you settled down for the night, your mind was alert with thoughts about the upcoming exams the 5th graders had, and the shopping you needed to do for the plans you had with work friends. 

The sudden image of the broken bird, mangled and red flashed behind your eyes and you flinched, gripping your bed sheets as nausea spiraled into your stomach. You shivered at the draft of cool air coming from the open bedroom door. You had damn well better not have nightmares featuring small animals.

-

 

The next morning you managed to almost break an ankle just as you locked your front door. 

You had tripped mere seconds after leaving, your foot connecting with something large and soft. A horrifying thought hit you that it was the poor cat you’d just kicked like an asshole. You stumbled forward, gasping, and your arms shot out to grip the wooden railing, preventing you from toppling over. Once you had your bearings you spun and looked down.

There was a lumpy mass on the ground, soggy and muddy brown. You approached it and stared. Realizing it wasn't an actual animal you pressed a black shoe against it to turn it over. A sole beady black eye greeted you from a chewed up face of fur. It was a teddy bear, and it was missing an arm. Grey fluff bloomed out from the empty socket. You blinked and grimaced. The unsettling sight made you feel a bit queasy. 

How it had ended up outside your front door? You turned to glance at the open road. The other houses were a little further down from your own, and as far as you knew, your local neighbors didn't have kids. With all the dangers and trash on this part of Derry, it wasn't exactly screaming family friendly property. There was no one to your right with kids and to your left, well. There was no one.

(No)

Seeing the empty street you had no choice but to touch the dirty thing to send it where it belonged, in the trash. You wrinkled your nose as you picked it up by one dangling ear, water seeping out and dribbling down into the soles of its furry feet. There was a pungent odor coming from it that was extremely foul. You quickly disposed of it, annoyed at the trail of dripping smelly water it left behind, but careful not to get any on yourself. You’d have to mop the floor later. Running in you quickly rinse your hands with soap, before leaving for work.

As you walked you thought about the rancid smell. It was like mildew crossed with a toilet, and it reeked. But there hadn't been any bad weather that night. It was possible that another animal had dropped it there but it seemed odd that an animal would even pick up a toy, let alone one that smelt so bad. 

Being so new to Derry, especially as a teacher meant it was possible someone was pulling a prank on you. Maybe a kid if their parents dared to let them out this far. But there was the new curfew to consider. 

It had been put in place recently, after a woman and her toddler had gone missing. There had been a few more, but you really struggled to remember their names, apart from them being kids. They couldn't have been in your classes otherwise you were sure you’d know their names, but it wasn't a pleasant thought.

-

The school was dark by the time you finished that evening. The bell had rung long ago, but you were stuck behind filling in paperwork that the teacher needed, and you'd be damned if you had to take home anymore paperwork. So you sat in the empty classroom, watching the sun fade behind the clouds as your pen scraped across page after page.

Calling it a day you got up and left, saying goodbye to the remaining receptionist as you went.

You wore a long white coat that evening, the beginning bite of chilly fall settling into your bones. You wrapped it tight about you like a blanket. The roads were quiet, but you still spotted the occasional kid hanging around and a few familiar faces of parents who smiled if they saw you. 

Eventually you found yourself down Neibolt Street, where it became like a deserted ruin, the only signs of life being the distant light of houses beyond your own, and the miscellaneous items that could be found trashed along the pathway. It was like some forgotten relic. It felt very separate to the rest of the town, like some discarded part that no one wanted to acknowledge unless they lived here. Like it didn't exist.

The house known as Number 29 slid passed your vision almost unnoticed, like a black shadow that was easier to deal with if you ignored it entirely. Unfortunately you were not someone who was good as ignoring things, and your eyes darted over to the front of the building. It stood tall and menacing, like a massive hollow husk of dark wood and empty rooms.

For a moment it all looked the same as you remember, just a thing that you now paid little attention to on your walks to work each day. But then your jaw fell. The brittle weeds and ashen wood were all the same, but the front was bereft of sunflowers. Not a single one. You desperately search for a single wink of gold, the bright looming flowers were hard to miss, but there were none. They were all gone, the field empty and soulless.

The pounding of you heart rose steadily, but you barely noticed it as you continued to stare. Your heart curdled in your lower stomach, like a huge weight was pushing it down. You couldn't explain why the lack of sunflowers bothered you so much. Maybe it was the thought that someone knew. Someone had seen you take one and they were trying to scare you. If so then they were doing an excellent job of it.

-

By the time your house was in view the ground was barely visible, despite your eyes adjusting as much as they could. You glared up at the moon, as if it held the answers to your fears. You were so busy looking that it surprised you when you heard a crunch. 

It was the sound of leaves breaking, dry and thin. You looked down. Bright colored petals. The light reflecting them white as bone. You inhaled sharply as you walked, trembling. You knew what they were. 

“No. This is...”

The trail of sunflowers were shattered into thousands of smaller pieces, tiny specs of papery petal that littered the ground like a glittery night sky. They came to a stop just at the edge of your bottom porch step, right outside your home. There was a larger one, and it lay curled and dead upon the first step, in better shape than the others but still just as fragile and lifeless. One more touch and it would probably crumble to dust.  
You stared and stared at the dead flowers. A voice echoed in your mind.  


_‘But you're a sunflower girl aren't you?’_  


“No. It wasn't real,” your voice sounded manic even to your own ears, a whispered plea.  


You slid to the floor, clawing at your hair, your scalp burning at the force. You didn't care. The thing you had wedged to the back of your mind, the thing you were sure was just a hallucination. It couldn't be more than that.  


Your mouth trembled as you hid your face in your hands. It couldn't be more than that, because if it was...if it was then you would be admitting something. And that was a thought so uncomfortable that you’d rather pretend it wasn't true.  


Something was stalking you. Something that lived less than half a mile down your road.


	3. Osmosis

The flower on your front room window seal glowed in the midday sunlight, its petals a halo of gold that were only slightly curled at the tips with age. Or maybe you hadn't cared for it right. You found it difficult to enjoy when you remember where you got it, and the strange events that had transpired since taking it. With that being said, you also didn’t care enough to move it. You enjoyed the golden spot of light it gave off from the corner of your eye when watching the television. It was easy to ignore as it blended in with the late year sun, an uneasy reminder but a pretty edition to your home.

You had aimlessly clicked through the channels with the black remote, the hazy sunlight making you warm and tired. You had plans, but the idea of moving from where you were sat, blankly staring at your TV screen like it was speaking a foreign language, made it hard to do so. You checked the wall clock. 12:19 pm. 

It had been a while since anyone had visited you. Your family didn’t count - the only one left who cared was your father and you wouldn't expect him to come so far out, especially when his bad leg making driving a painful experience. You stuck to phone calls. Your friends on the other hand, the local ones you’d made quite quickly, were a welcome distraction from the previous weeks creepy events. You thought about calling them.

Not that you were fully on board with your delusions yet. There had been no sunflowers outside when you checked the following morning, a broom clenched between your fingertips. Plenty of rusty colored leaves, so maybe you had mistaken them in that late night walk. You had been staring at school papers all evening, and yet…

A sharp rap at the door made you jump ten feet in the air. 

You hesitated to move, before climbing to your feet to answer the door. 

A woman was at the door. She looked to be in her early forties, her black hair pinned to her head in a bun, and her face was heavily lined with age. It didn't help that she was frowning. 

“Hello, um. Sorry to bother you,” she said, her fingers fiddling with a set of keys that peaked out under the sleeve of her black jacket. “Have you seen any kids out here?”

“No,” you said, unable to remember a single time you’d seen one. Even though you suspected a kid was pulling pranks on you, the idea was only halfhearted at best. The woman's body seemed to deflate at your answer. She turned to go.

“Wait! Can I help with anything?” you asked.

She looked back. “My son didn't come home last night.”

“Oh,” you felt cold at her words, “I- sorry. I’ll keep a lookout. What's his name?”

“Jacob. Jacob White. Thank you,” She turned away before you could say anything else, hurrying down the path and back onto the main street. You watched as she disappeared down the road towards your neighbors houses. 

You wondered why she was out here and not the police. Maybe she had called them. You didn't know what it was like to have kids, but it was understandable that a mother wouldn't be able to just sit and agonize when they could be out searching. You felt you should be more horrified that there was a missing child. While it was true you now felt a little sick, you had the urge to just pretend that conversation hadn’t happened. You didn't know any Jacob from school. She didn't even specify what he looked like. It all felt so unreal. 

You hoped the woman found him.

You shut the door and slowly walked to the front room. You stared at the black line ticking on the wall clock. 12:25. You thought about going to the shops. You licked your lips and headed over to the window to look out at the porch. The sunflower prickled underneath your jaw from its jar of water. You looked down that stretch of road and your heartbeat began to race. 

You tried to picture what a little boy named Jacob might look like. Did he have black hair like his mothers? You squinted with the physical effort it took to picture your pupils in your head, their faces like rows and rows of blank canvases. Did you have early onset dementia? No...you could picture them, some of them anyhow. Most of them. But you couldn't recall a Jacob or boy with dark hair who shared that name.

A feeling sunk heavy in the pit of your stomach. You leaned your face against the heated glass and grimaced. 

-

It was late that night when you heard the window creak from downstairs. Something whimpered. You laid in silence, thinking that you were still in a dream, your body numb to sensation apart from your sense of hearing. You listened, frozen with your eyes wide and staring at nothing. The whimpering continued in small spurts. Something dragged across the floor, rustling over what you knew to be white checkered linoleum kitchen tiles. The voice drifted through your ears, a soft sound scrapping at your skull, like it was trying to build a home in your brain.

You sat up, like a puppet tugged by strings around your wrists. Fully aware of yourself now, you took in a gentle breath. You heard nothing but your own paranoid mind. Moving from the comfortable warmth you dipped your feet out onto the carpet. The room to your door was ajar and a small boy stood there.

You stopped. Your body wouldn't move. You stared at the little figure in the doorway, your lungs feeling like they were going to shrivel up as all the air filtered out of you. He was looking at you, his face pale and his dark hair blending in with the shadowed hallway. Your lip trembled. Your body felt like a live wire ready to explode should something happen.

You opened your mouth to say something, but you couldn't speak.

The boy didn't speak either, as if he were as much stuck as you are in this moment, like a painting of a person and not a real human being. When he did speak it was not with his mouth, but directly to your mind.

“Don’t ignore me teacher, don’t ignore me,” his voice was high and whining, but his dark eyes remained focused on you from the doorway where he existed. Your heart pounded like a frightened animal.

“You ignore and forget and it hurts,” His voice cried, “oh it hurts.” The contrast with his unmoving mask of a face terrified you.

“Stop it! Go away!”

For a moment nothing happened. Then his body sunk. Like a crumpled up piece of paper it collapsed in on itself, puddled onto the floor in a dark pool of black. You screamed.

You kept screaming as your eyes adjusted to the morning light, as you saw it gentle beams lighting up the cream colored hallway where the door was wide open. It was just a dream.

Shakily you got out of bed.

You went downstairs and turned the kettle on, throwing on a jacket over your pyjamas then heading out the front, with a mug trembling in your grip. You leaned back against the front door and took a deep breath. The sun glinted as it rose in the sky, a trickle of amber light warming your shivering skin. 

Maybe the dream was caused by hearing what the woman said that previous day. You knew that kids went missing here, but no one had ever approached you about the matter, not even at school. It wasn't something students or teachers brought up, at least while you were around. 

You went back in after five or so minutes, your feet starting to go numb. As you shut the door you noticed something dark on the floor. You squinted. It looked like you had tracked in some dirt or water, splattered dark stains were dried on the wooden floor. You followed their path with your eyes, leading to the stairs. You climbed the staircase. The tiny droplets continued, and they stopped just outside your door frame. Your frowned.

You couldn't recall doing that, and with the awful dream fresh in your mind, you couldn't help but connect the two and feel a little sick. 

The local news would later inform you that a young boys body had been found floating upside down in the river, but the segment on him would be so brief that you barely paid it any mind. Even so when it happened, your mind would flash with unpleasant thoughts and you would be tempted to go check outside the house, not sure for what, but the urge would strike you suddenly.

Panic would peek from behind your ribs in the form of rapid breaths, but you would ignore this and continue watching the screen, blanking out the urge to twist your head to even look up at the front window, where the sunflower sat and the night sky smothered the glass.


	4. Accepting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last update before Christmas likely! Hope you all have a nice time and take care of ya selves, ya hear?

There was a delicate knock at the door and you got up from the sofa. Opening the front door you were met with the face of a young woman holding a hefty bag. Her dark hair curled around her narrow features and she was smiling. Her name was Kathy Rivers.

“Better be something strong in there,” you said, nudging her bag with your foot. She scowled at you and politely waved at you to move so she could step in. Another person's head bobbed behind her.

“You’ll love what I’ve got,” A shorter women with blonde hair came in with a grin. She shook a plastic bag at you and its cargo clinked.

“You're a miracle worker Maddie,” You grinned at her and moved aside, shutting the door behind them.

“When did you get a cat?” Kathy gestured to the bowl of water under the staircase next to the shoe rack. “Saw it run off the porch as I pulled up.”

“It's a stray I think, just comes and goes when it wants.”

Madison pulled a face as she set down her bag on the front room table. “You don't know where it's been? It could be like, diseased or something.”

“I’m sure it's fine. It’s the only cat I've seen on this road.”

Kathy headed up stairs and called back, “Well if you catch rabies don't expect much from the hospital here. It’s shit.” She came down without her bags.

The three of you had fast become friends. Both women worked at the school, Kathy a receptionist, and Madison was a teacher's assistant like you. They had both been surprised you moved to Derry instead of a larger city. Kathy’s opinion on her hometown was the same she had on the hospital. You had asked why she didn't move herself, but she simply shrugged, and said it was easier not to. 

The women took to the kitchen as you heated up some cheap pizza and arranged the alcohol on the side. Sometimes the three of you would head out of town to find better night life than Derry but it was becoming rarer. As the girls chatted behind you while you sorted the food, you thought about the previous weekend “incident”.

You had nothing but peace since then. No nightmares. No dried flowers outside your home. Though Number 29 was still empty of sunflowers, you supposed it could just be the cold weather had killed them off. In any case, you were comforted by the knowledge of close company if just for one night. 

Your dad had almost thrown a fit when you decided to move here. He hated you being far from him, but more than that, you think he hated knowing you were living alone.

You shook the negative thoughts away and stood up, huffing out a small sigh. You turned back to your friends.

Madison was showing Kathy something on her phone, and you moved over to see. 

“What we looking at?” you say as you peer down at the screen. You saw a small brown puppy asleep in a basket. “Aww a baby.”

“Cute isn't he? I got him on Wednesday from Ms. Thomas. She has one left.”

“Oh I see,” you started with a snicker, “Its okay for you to get a pet but when I-”

“Cleo is not from the street,” Madison responded with an unwavering voice. Her hand moved to her hip, “You can’t just let in things and call them your loving pet.”

“Well Jasper is very loving actually.” You said this despite not having seen the cat for three days. 

“Jasper? I thought he was a stray?” Kathy piped up from between the two of you, a glass of drink already in her hand loosely. “Does he come when you call him that?”

You pouted at the two of them, already feeling ganged up on. You weren't going to admit you just came up with the name on the spot. “He’s still adjusting to domestic life okay?”

Madison giggled, “Sorry sweet, I didn’t mean to shit on your adopted cat,” Her grin told you otherwise and you smirked back.

-

It didn’t take long for the three of you to devour the pepperoni pizza, as you watched some weird black and white comedy show from the 60’s. Bottles littered your table neatly but you weren't expecting that to last long, the more the room started to sway.

You got up and emptied the plates and bottles in the kitchen, feeling as if you were walking on air with every step you took. 

This brief high was interrupted when you shoved the rubbish in the bin. You yanked your hand back with a hiss and stared at it. Red ran down your palm. You had pricked it on broken glass.

“Shit.”

You grabbed some tissues and held them there. Once the flow stopped you trashed it and staggered back to the living room, sucking your finger raw as it stung like hell. You sunk onto the couch beside Madison.

“What the fuck is this?” you gestured with a loose arm to the TV. 

“Honey you put it on.” Kathy said, lounging on the small armchair next to the wall the TV was on. “You tell me.” 

You frowned, finding it hard to recall the last few hours, and then snickered, standing up to grab the remote. “I’m gonna change it hold on.”

“No!” Madison kicked you gently with her foot, having been lying beside you. “I like it. Leave it on.”

You flopped back onto the sofa, ignoring Madison's complaint when you sat on her hand. You looked over to see her own dazed eyes, and thought that her flushed cheeks looked pretty against her fair hair. She watched the screen as if in a trance. You sighed and leaned your cheek on your palm.

More time passed and you drank heavily. Your finger throbbed but the ache was becoming duller with time, and booze. You blinked tiredly, looking up at the television.

The black and white show swirled into one mass of grey, to the point that you honestly had no clue what was even happening. You could hear the soundtrack of an audience laughing and Madison giggled, the smell of whiskey on her breath catching your nose. It was so sweet that you recoiled from her closeness, pressing into the soft cushions. She paid you no mind.

Your eyes drifted to Kathy who had her phone out, the screen made her face glow a soft blue, her eyes almost black. You shut your own and sighed happily. A person on the show was splashing around in water and Madison laughed again, then said the water was disgusting and she wouldn’t do that. You muttered a reply and then stared at the ceiling.

The TV light flickered off the textured swirls painted on the old ceiling, making long shadows that cut through the white paint. When you grew bored of watching this, you looked to the window. The alcohol normally felt good until the next day, but you felt it suddenly heavy in your stomach, like acid lining, and you hunched over as if to be sick.

“You okay?” A voice asked, but your head felt so muffled that you couldn’t tell who had asked. That was weird. You staggered to your feet.

“Y-yup. I’m getting some air,” the room spun as you moved and then you clarified, “fresh air.”

You felt eyes on your back before Kathy spoke, “I’ll come out in a sec if your not back in.”

You waved her off with a flopping arm, feeling better now you were up and about. Your stomach twisted into less knots.

The front door opened, and lovely cool air hit your skin as you stepped out and shut it behind you.

You wobbled down the first few porch steps, managing not to trip in the dark, and sat heavily on the bottom step, tilting forward with a giggle. It was nice out here, the moon was out.

And there was something on the ground. It was dark and square.

A part of you might have been scared, might have felt a cold chill race up your spine, but that feeling was smothered by the brilliance of alcohol. You scowled. Then sighed as if this was all a huge inconvenience to you, and not something to be afraid of. Frankly you felt too great to give a shit. 

“Yeah okay. Okay. Fuck it,” You reached out and grabbed it.

You ran your fingers over it. It was some kind of dark, rusted tin. There was a seal on the top, and a metal handle on the side. You stared at it without comprehension, when it suddenly hit you what it was. A jack in the box.

You turned the stiff lever, and turned and turned it some more. But it didn't pop open. You shook it and something rattled inside. With a grumble you held it to your chest, and stood up, moving precariously to the front door. 

The other women were now both sat on the sofa, and Madison was gesturing and speaking loudly, so you casually dumped the box behind the sofa as you joined them.

-

Sunlight peered through the glass window, the heat disturbing you awake. You groaned and shifted on the sofa, surrounded by empty bottles. You watched dust motes floating aimlessly in the air as you tried to recall last night. You checked your phone. It was mid afternoon.

You had three new messages, two from Kathy and one from Madison. With a tired yawn you read them, learning that they had tried to wake you up before they left, but you had been too drunk to awaken. You dropped it back on the ground and snuggled into the blue throw that had been so generously left on you.

There was a clatter of metal in the kitchen, and something rustled. The damn cat was trying to get food from the bin again, but your head was throbbing and the effort to get up and check was just too much.

The rustling continued and you were about to yell out when you heard something odd. The cat snuffled, a deep chested sound that was heavy, and sounded nothing like a house cat. Your stomach dropped as you realized it might not be the cat that had gotten in the window.

You lift yourself up and peered warily over the sofa edge, to the corridor that lead to the kitchen. From here it looked dark, and there was something black upon the floor. It rustled and you realized it was a full bin bag, but your view was partially blocked.

Your brow crinkled with unease. You may have made a mess last night but you didn't think the girls would leave your kitchen like that. 

It shook again as if it were being rummaged through, and broken glass clinked from inside.

You pictured a large brown raccoon, unable to see how anything else could have fit in that tiny open window. Even so as you stood, you crept to the front door where you kept a long clear umbrella with a metal tip. It was better than nothing. 

Despite now being armed with an umbrella drawn like a sword, fear bubbled like hot pulses of adrenaline inside you, readying you to scream or run. 

The rustling stopped, and all was silent. You tried to calm your breathing, tried to be as quiet as the soft footsteps you took until you reached the doorway entrance.

As you turned the corner what you saw made you drop the umbrella in alarm, where it rapped sharply against the tiles.

Up close the wispy red hair and pale face was more real then it had ever looked before. The figure hunched forward, its spine contorted oddly as a long arm disappeared inside the trash. It’s limb froze at your appearance. Dark rings encircled its eyes, drawing your attention to the bright gold in the center. It or he- didn't seem concerned to be found in your kitchen, digging through your trash. The expression on its face went from lax, to a wide grin.

“Hello...”


End file.
